


Firebloom

by themaskedsoprano



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dry Humping, F/M, Female Ejaculation, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 01:56:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14781422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themaskedsoprano/pseuds/themaskedsoprano
Summary: He possesses her, owns every fibre of her soul.Christine would do anything for her Angel.





	Firebloom

**Author's Note:**

> oh boy it's my first fanfiction and of course it's smut

She kneels on the floor, legs tucked neatly below her. One hand traces the pattern of the rug idly (Persian, she thinks, perhaps a gift from Nadir?), but she is still. Oh, Christine is so tired. Her body longs to fall flat, to simply drift into sleep, exhausted from the performance, but she waits. She has no choice but to wait for him, her Angel.

_Erik._

She feels his approach. He makes no sound, long accustomed to drifting round the opera house unheard, unseen, but she senses him. They are bonded, but whether through music or through something deeper, she does not know. All she knows is that her soul sings at his presence, and it revives her. She automatically straightens her spine, her hand stilling it's motion.

"My sweet angel," he says, and she can feel his eyes roving over her back. "You've done so well. You sang beautifully this evening."

"Only for you," she whispers sweetly, as the tiredness begins to set back into her bones.

Slowly he scoops her up into his arms, one hand tucked under her knees while the other wraps round her body, resting on the side of her chest. "Sleep, my dove," he says gently. "When you awaken I have a gift for your great triumph."

*.*

She awakes to the smell of roses, and when she blearily opens her eyes she finds herself surrounded by them. Erik lies beside her, still, relaxed. 

"Erik?" she says.

"Yes, my love?"

"Thank you," she whispers. She truly loves roses, her favourite flower, and to see the care behind the placement of each and every one of them warms her heart.

He contemplates her face for the moment, gently stroking it, before cupping her head and placing a soft kiss on her forehead. He leaves a trail of kisses down her face, stopping just shy of the corner of her mouth. He moves to the other side, stopping again.

"Please," she says, after the third time.

He smirks before leaning forward and capturing her soft lips. Her heart pounds, her skin buzzing with energy as he wraps a hand into her hair, slowly stroking his hands through her thick curls. She gives a gentle moan at the gesture, and he pulls her closer, until she's on top of him. His other hand grasps at her back, running up and down, and his leg slips between hers. She breaks the kiss, gasping at the pressure of his leg against her aching centre, and his mouth follows her neck, gently biting at the soft skin between her shoulder and neck. 

He moves his leg slightly, increasing the pressure against her, and she rocks her hips against him, suddenly shy. His hands dip lower, grasping at her rear and encouraging her to move against him. Christine whimpers at the delicious friction, moving her hips with abandon. He groans against her shoulder, pulling her closer. Christine speeds up faster and faster, feeling her stomach tighten as she reaches for something. Her legs begin to tremble and everything grows tighter and tighter, growing to one fixed point between her thighs.

"Unnh... Erik, please..." she moans weakly, and he moves his own leg faster against her as she rubs against him furiously.

Suddenly the string snaps, and she's shaking and convulsing over him, moaning weakly as pleasure overtakes her body. He kisses her gently, making his way back up to her mouth, as her breathing slows.

He's ever so tender as he begins to undress her, slowly taking off her nightdress. She blushes slightly upon realising how rucked up it had become, and he laughs lightly, before lifting it over her head. He kisses her breasts, teasing her nipples with his tongue.

"Erik," she whimpers. He removes his head from her chest. "Yes my dove?"

"I need you, there," she begs, and he feigns innocent. "Where?" he asks, with an infuriatingly smug expression on his face. 

"Please, use your tongue on me, there," she asks, as she pulls down her drawers and runs a finger through her own wetness. Erik's smile becomes predatory as he ducks down, running his own finger through her soft curls, and finding her positively dripping.

Christine almost screams at the first touch of his tongue, the feathery warmth causing her to buck her hips up into his mouth. His tongue circles and teases the hardened nub, before dropping back.

"Erik please... I need more!" she cries, and he stops, lapping up her wetness from his mouth.

"Beg for it," he says, his eyes dark.

"Oh, Erik, please let me come. I need to, I'm so close! Please, please, please," she half chants, her hips bucking against the air trying to find relief.

He finally ducks his head down again, licking at her more firmly as she moans his name. He slips a finger inside her, and then another as he finds her slick. She moans as he curls his fingers up just right. The pressure begins mounting, higher and higher, and Christine is suddenly afraid.

"Erik no! I need the bathroom, stop!" she cries, frantically.

"Trust me," he mumbles into her, before continuing. The pressure in Christine seems to become unbearable. Her legs tremble around Erik, her hips bucking mindlessly.

"Oh gods!" she cries as she detonates, her juices squirting everywhere. Her body spasms, and Erik wraps an arm around her, his other hand easing her through her orgasm, until she wrenches it away, oversensitive.

"Well done, my pet," he croons softly, and Christine feels utterly adored, bathing in his approval. She feels his hardness against her leg and moves against it, earning a strangled groan from Erik. She sits up.

"Angel?" she says, looking beautifully debauched, her curly hair a mess.

"Yes my love?"

"Can I help you with that?" she says, running a hand over his bulge.

"Of course," he says, desperation clouding his eyes.

Her hands are nimble as she unzips his trousers, and he all but tears off his coat and shirt. Her hand strokes him gently, dipping into her own wetness then sliding up and down his shaft. He watches as she pushes him down onto the bed, straddling him, before stroking his cheek.

"May I?" she asks, touching the corner of his mask. He looks at her, seeing only the warm love that radiates from her. "If you desire," he says.

Her face does not even quiver as she sees the marred side of his face, instead she simply kisses his twisted cheek softly, before sliding down on to his stiff cock. He stares up at her, watching her lose herself in pleasure. This beautiful, wonderful angel; his one saving grace. Overcome with need he rolls them over, thrusting into her in desperation.

"Harder, faster," she whimpers, and he does. Soon the room is filled with her desperate squeaks and the wet slap of his flesh against hers. One finger makes its way down to where they are joined, to that stiff nub that aches for his attention. He rubs it, his mouth reaching down to capture a nipple in his mouth. Her moans increase in volume as he pounds into her, trying his hardest to hold on, to make her come.

If her first two orgasms were violent, this was explosive. Christine shook, almost screaming as she shouted her pleasure. She clenched tightly round Erik, and he felt his balls tighten as he came, emptying himself into her.

When they came back to themselves, Erik slipped from her, kissing her softly. "I love you," he said, golden eyes boring into her soft brown ones. She thought back on it all; all the anger and the hatred, the lies and deceit, the blood, Raoul... But all that stood out was wonderful, tragic, aggravating, lovable Erik.

"I love you too," she whispered, content.


End file.
